


frontiers unnumbered

by kingtumbleweed



Series: The Way You Fight It [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Anticlimactic Sex, BDSM, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Humiliation, M/M, Mild S&M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingtumbleweed/pseuds/kingtumbleweed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They experiment with humiliation in the form of anal play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	frontiers unnumbered

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry about the stupid title. You'll notice I've coined the tag, "anticlimactic sex."

Karkat thumbs at the hem of your underwear, flipping the waistband down and back up.  You're pleased that you're not too heavy to straddle him, enough that you even took your pants off willingly when Karkat beckoned you onto the concupiscent platform.  He contented himself with you atop him, pinching your thighs and stomach, twisting your skin until you grit your teeth and hope privately that the marks bruise up for you to press later, when he’s gone, and remember how it feels to be spread over him.  Your skin got too sweaty for him to get a good grip after a few minutes, but your nook is wet already, your bulge curled stickily inside your shorts.  The bone over his sheath is pressed hard up under your nook, and you really want him to strip you and fuck you senseless, but this time,

"Wait."

Karkat plops his head back on the pillow, resting his palms on your hips instead of wiggling his fingers into your underwear.  "Problem?"

"Ah," you tongue at a split in your lip, trying not to chew it bloody from nerves.  "No, but..."  There goes your lip anyway.  You never think of yourself as being so shy, but you can't just fall back on caste scripts because Karkat doesn't care--he puts you on your knees with all the assurance you'd expect of royalty.  "It had occurred to me that," you try to rush it all out at once, "given what a filthy, perverted excuse for a slut I've become, I think I no longer deserve the dignity of being pailed properly.”

A faint crease appears between Karkat’s brows, and you frown in alarm.

    “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

    There goes your lip.  “No--well.  I--I wanted...”

    “Answer the question.”  The look on his face is dead serious.

    You lick blood from your lip.  This is going all wrong.  “I should be ashamed.”

    “ _No_.”  Karkat sits up, face gone still.  “Why?  Everyone tugs their bulge to something, Eq, and if you should be ashamed, shouldn’t I?”

    You grimace.  “No!  I have--I have my blood, and--”

    “And I’m a prideless gutterling, right, I had forgotten.”

    “No, I...”  You grit your teeth, hard, and backtrack, folding your arms around Karkat’s shoulders.  “You have the luxury to... you don’t _worry_ what others think of you.”

    Karkat’s eyebrows quirk angrily.  “I wasn’t aware anyone else’s thinkpan sludge had an influence on our pailing.”

    “They--I--it’s still _wrong._ ”  Your bulge has shrunk right back away and now your underwear are cold and sticky, and you can’t put your words together, but it isn’t _proper_.  You know Karkat didn’t grow up the same way you did, but at least his Lusus should have taught him to have some kind of dignity--

    “Do you like it?”

    You fidget, a bead of sweat tracing a line down your cheek.  “I do.”

    “Then I don’t see the problem.”

    You can’t hold his gaze.  His irises have finally been shifting to red, the hue creeping through the gray from the inside out, and he can’t hide his blood color anymore, any more than you can ignore it.  This isn’t what you want to be going over, it’s come up too many times to count.  Karkat is convinced your blood doesn’t affect your quadrant life.  You just wanted to give him the idea and let him run with it.  “You’re right.”

    “Shit yes, I am.”  Karkat kisses your chin.  You know his ‘this isn’t over voice’ only too well, but you just bow your head in assent.  “Now,” he slips his thumbs under your shirt, which is still--ridiculously--rucked half-up your chest, “you had been saying.   _Proper_ fucking?”  His eyes narrow, interested.  “Tell me more.”

    You feel your face flood with color.  You hadn’t prepared to explain yourself.  “Not pailed in a... respectable manner.  I mean.”  You shift awkwardly on him.  “Not in my nook.”

    His hands drift around your hips, palms curving around your glutes.  “You want me to fuck you in the waste chute?”

    It’s possible you’ve never blushed this hard.  “Yes.”

    A tiny little grin pulls at a corner of Karkat’s mouth, his hands drifting, exploring the shape of your rump.  He presses a fingerpad up against you through your shorts and you jump a little, feeling shivery and a little elated.  “I thought you didn’t want to try that?”

    “I.”  You were wrong:  the flush is now creeping down your chest.  “Um.”  You untuck your hair from behind one ear, trying, somehow, to hide some of your face, which has to be dark blue by now.  And maybe hang onto a shred of your shame.  “I did a little experimenting.  As I am wont,” you add this last more proudly, as if you could pretend it was just another night in the workshop.

    Karkat’s jaw actually drops.  He props himself up on his elbows, staring at you in what you can only call amazement.  “Really?”

    “...Yes.”

    “That’s,” Karkat pauses, eyes unfocused, and you realize he’s imagining it, “ _really fucking hot_.”

    You try a smile, inordinately pleased despite the horror you feel at--admitting you put your fingers your waste chute--but it comes out more like a cringe.

    “Will you show me?”

    The noise that comes out of your mouth is not a word, and you swallow hard around it, working your mouth a little.  You’re trembling with nerves and as aroused as you are apprehensive--and horribly conscious of your body.  “I could.  If you would...”

    “Show me.”  Karkat gets it, face going stern.

    You duck your head in assent, and stand to take off your underwear.  You can’t help feeling that you look really stupid.  Just the first few inches of your bulge are showing, curled tightly against your pelvis, and there’s genetic material visibly smeared on your skin.  Your lubricant is in a drawer under the concupiscent platform and you hesitate beside the platform after fetching it, unsure how to go about--this.

    “Come up here,” Karkat directs.  “Sit where I can see you.  Against the end of the platform.  Spread.”

    You can feel how sticky-wet your nook is--it spreads when you part your knees--and you’re cold and hot at the same time.  Karkat licks his lips looking at you.  Your shirt is still on, you realize.  Stupid.  You fumble with the lube bottle, mumbling an apology when you accidentally snap the flip-cap off.  Karkat only looks at you expectantly.  There are little dabs of red high in his cheeks, and that’s a little gratifying.

    “Um.”  You stare at your bulge instead of meeting Karkat’s eyes.  He’s totally focused on you, on watching you violate yourself.

    “Go ahead.”

    Stalling, you spread the lube over all your fingers and... pulling one knee up, you reach down past your nook.  Rub one finger against your hole.  When you slide the tip of one finger in, Karkat sucks his lower lip into his mouth, and maybe it’s okay, because he’s not looking at your face.  You look at the platform coverings instead of at Karkat or yourself as you work the tip of your finger in.  It still feels really weird, the same as the first time, but it feels less sickening--

    “Can you fit more than one?”

    “Um.  I did before.”

    “Do it,” Karkat breathes, sitting up and scooting forward so he can pull your legs over his, into his lap, and you lean back on one elbow so you can get an easier angle to squeeze your first finger in alongside the middle and oh, that feels... still weird, but weird and good, weird and frighteningly hot that Karkat is actually chewing his lips watching you.  

    “Deeper.  All the way.”

    You push both fingers in, curl your wrist to get all the way down to the base of your knuckles and _oh fiddlesticks_ , you let out a tiny noise, you can feel all the way in you and it feels really good.  And you realize, with a thrill of embarrassment, that Karkat has his pants unzipped, hand down the front, and you can see the tip of his bulge just visible curling around his thumb.  Heaven help you, he’s rubbing his bulge to you, it’s staining the hem of his underwear and you’re staring at it thinking about how much deeper than your fingers it could reach and-- _heaven help you_ , you clap a hand over your mouth, trying to bite off the mortifying moan that just bubbled up from your chest because now Karkat’s laughing and _crawling up over you_ , pants sagging off his hips, his bulge caught in his waistband, _this is outrageously vulgar_ and yet your bulge is throbbing madly against your hip.

    Karkat presses his palm over your hand, keeping your fingers in you while he stretches up to get at your mouth with his, biting your lip and pressing his tongue into your mouth like he wants to invade you entirely and you mumble sloppily against him,

    “Please, please?”

and Karkat growls, low and _feral_ , you can see all his dull teeth and as if he’s reading your mind, he bites your shoulder, hard enough to make you groan.  Then he’s upright, scrambling out of his pants, out of his underwear, pulling you up and back on top of him, and your arms are shaking with anxiety but he’s put his patient face back on, tugging your hips until you’re lined up, his bulge curling hot and wet in the cleft of your ass, and he rests his palms on your legs, instructing,

    “Slowly.”

    You bite your cheek when you feel the tip of his bulge slick against your waste chute, and then the little ridge at the tip is in you with an easy nudge and he’s sliding further, you can actually feel yourself stretching slowly open--and has Karkat’s bulge always been so thick?  So long?  You'd swear you can feel every nanosecond--every breath on your skin, every millimeter and ridge along the bottom of his bulge.  This is the weirdest and dirtiest thing you have ever done, but your bulge and nook ache, and when you're flush against his hips, Karkat’s bulge twists inside you--you almost come right then.  Hands braced against the platform on either side of Karkat's body, hair fallen in a sheet around the two of you where it hasn't stuck to your sweaty shoulders, you experience a moment of sublime peace.

Karkat is stroking your legs and sides as softly as he ever has, his face a gentle grin.  "There's my pitiful, pathetic slut," he whispers, "Equius you feel so fucking _good_ ," and then he bucks, rutting his bulge up into you, and your fingers dig into the sheets, Karkat's hands rough on your bulge, and just like that--or maybe it’s longer than it feels, you get a little fuzzy--you come so hard your eyes roll, your slurry splattering onto Karkat's stomach and chest, making a mess of the sheets, and it just keeps _going_.  Wave after wave rolls over you, through you, out you, until you're trembling so hard you can't hold yourself up anymore, and Karkat rolls you onto your side so he can hold you.  His bulge slips free and you feel a lonely _ache_ you didn't expect.  

You bury your face in his shoulder, taking deep breaths to quell the shaking in your limbs.   Karkat strokes your hair, kissing your horns and your hairline and murmuring.

“Gog, you’re so fucking hot, Eq, you’re perfect.  You’re gorgeous.”  He traps your arms against his chest and presses you tight against him, and he smells like the tang of sweat and sex and he’s _purring_ so gently you can only feel it, not hear it.  You’re distantly aware that Karkat’s bulge is still curling impatiently between you, but it seems like you’ll never stop trembling.  You mumble some attempt at apology, but he only kisses you warmly, saying something softly that you don’t make a lot of sense of, and oh, he’s jerking himself off, slurry coming warm and wet on your thighs and you shudder, hiding your whimper of pleasure in his throat because you never believed anyone could use you as their own bucket like you used to fantasize about and still pity and respect you, and now _you’re_ purring when Karkat sighs against your cheek, pressing his lips to your ear and your temple.  He snakes his arms up the back of your shirt--which you’re _still_ wearing--and you tuck yourself into him to cuddle until the two of you are too cold and sticky to lay around anymore.


End file.
